Things that go bump in the night

I miss my computer. I don’t like borrowing the GH’s laptop to type on. Anyone know how to make changes to a wireless network without the “special number” that comes with the router? We can’t figure out how to make it accept my computer without that “mysteriously missing” number.

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In other news, the other night I was getting ready to go to bed and the boy walked out of his bedroom blinking in the light. “Do you have to go pee buddy?” I asked, hope rising in my chest that perhaps he might finally be learning to wake up and use the toilet at night.

“No mom, it’s time to go, daddy says it’s time to go.”

“Were you dreaming Boy?”

“No… oh wait, yes I was.”

“Where were you going in your dream?”

“To Beema’s house.”

I made him try to go pee anyway, but it was too late, the diaper was already wet.

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The Girl has been talking in her sleep. I shared a room with my little sister for most of my childhood and she also talked in her sleep. Often she would yell out completely nonsensical things but occasionally it was coherent. I’ll always remember waking up to her screaming out in her sleep, “No, it’s my icecream.”

Since the Girl is still sleeping in our bedroom, I’m starting to get a sense of deja vu. Almost every night I have been awakened by the sound of her screaming. Her nightmares are never the stuff of fantasy and monsters, she has far too many things closer to reality to disturb her sleep. I most often hear her yell, “No it’s mine” or “I don’t want it” or “NO!”

Sometimes her middle of the night dramas break my heart. Once she woke up sobbing and shrieking, something that tends to awaken the Genius Husband and the Baby. I was next to her trying to settle her right away to keep her from waking everyone. After the crying stopped, and she was settling back under her blankets she said to me, in a little tiny, tired and broken voice, “Mommy, I don’t want the Boy to yell at me.”

When your child’s bossy behavior is causing your other child nightmares what do you do?

Then there was the recurring dream that went on for months when I was pregnant. It changed every day but the basic elements remained consistent. She was stuck in a hole, mommy saw her and didn’t help her, then the bad man came and was chasing her. Some nights Beema ran over the bad guys with her car, sometimes daddy fought them off, but it always began the same, she was stuck and mommy didn’t help her. Talk about tearing my heart out with a spoon. I just hope that since I was the one next to her rubbing her back and holding her when she woke up that it would sink in to whatever part of her was afraid that I would abandon her that I have not in fact done so.

Between the Baby’s late night gassy episodes, the Girl’s early morning nightmares, and the Boy’s preference for waking at the crack of dawn and sticking his bare behind next to my face so I can check for poo after he wipes it, I’m feeling a bit tired these days. (There is nothing quite like the wake-up call that is a 5-year-old’s stinky bottom that must be examined without contacts.) That’s my excuse for incoherence.